


Aingeal àrd

by lokilickedme



Series: The McClary Chronicles Prehistories and Side Stories [2]
Category: Scottish Mythology, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, King's POV, Opposites Attract, Scotland, Sex, Tons of Sex, a ridiculous amount of sex, neurodivergent and neurotypical relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-01-19 13:51:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12411552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokilickedme/pseuds/lokilickedme
Summary: Sgaile Leannan from the other side of the storm - a retelling of Molly and King's love story from King's POV.Aingeal ard translates roughly from Scottish Gaelic to English as "Noisy Angel".





	1. Chapter 1

                                                                              
    
    
     ** _Chan eil thu a 'sùileachadh gum bi an diabhal na boireannach_**  
    
    **_You never expect the devil to be a woman_**  

 

 

 

This hill is mine. 

It's been mine since before I were born.  I've lived up here alone for a good part of my life;  there's been times I go for a year or more wi'out seein another soul, save for shearing season, and that's my preference.

I've no use for people.

People are noisy.

My hill is quiet and the sounds of the creek and the rain and the sheep all fade to nothing in my head.  Nature sits fine with me, I've no quarrel with it.

It's the unnatural things that shove a burr up me arse.

And so I stay away from the village and the people who live in it, comin' down off the mountain just long enough to take care of business and have a few ales of a fortnight.  And Glasgow.  Glasgow is the fucking armpit of Satan but I do what I have to do there when I'm called.  It's not often, but going down to that city with its noise and speed and goddamn neverending motion is always enough to send me back home wit'me sporran sideways.

But the hill is quiet and there's whiskey atop the cupboard, and sooner or later the ringin in me ears stops and my hands quit shaking and that sickenin rattle in my nerves settles enough that I can feel the silence again.

That's where I live.  The silence in between it all.

And t'second a boot other than me own crushes a leaf on the upside of this mount, that silence shatters.

The whole bloody thing shattered that day when the first storm o'ta season began to brew on the horizon.

It brought somethin with it that tipped me quiet little life into the bucket, and nothin's been quiet since.

 

 

Nobody comes up the mountain unless they've business with me, which were why at first glance I thought I were seein a specter when that woman appeared on the crest.

Goddamn woman.  I knew what she were doing but I'd expected them t'send a man to do the job.  I'd have kicked his arse back down the hill and been shut of it, but no, they went and sent a goddamn yappy female t'scrabble about in the dirt, lookin for the minerals that ever'body and their fuckin granny knows are up here.

But she were lookin in the wrong place.

I wasn't gonna be the one ta'tell her.

I just wanted her gone...but fuck me if she didn't go and catch my damn fool eye.

 

Even from a distance she were a noisy bitch, talkin' to herself like she were of two minds.  I thought at first that she were crazy, maybe lost up here on the mountain - but after watchin' her for a couple days it become evident what she were doing.  The fuckin suits that'd been callin me for months had finally decided to just sidestep around me and sent someone.  Soil testing, checkin' the dirt with a truck boot full of equipment she never could make work quite right.

I knew there was something in the ground up here, always knew it.  I could taste it in the water that runs from the top of the mountain.  Every soul in County Claighe knows it's there, but not a one cares.  Tis' our home, we've no interest in its worth to anyone but our own children.

And now this woman was up here diggin' around in the mud in her red boots and ridiculous coat, fallin' on her face more often than she were on her feet.

Damn city folk, always needin' rescuing.  Because a storm were coming, and she didn't seem to know this hill was the last place she should be when it hit.

 

I'd been watchin' her for days.  She were a pretty thing I suppose, pleasant enough of face to give a second look to.  But she were tall and looked strong, not like a hard whack on ta' bottom would snap her in two.

She'd survive a hard winter.  That were an attractive thing in these parts.

But she'd bitch an' moan from October to May, I'd bet me arse on it.

 

She was set to squealin' like a goddamn adder had her by the teat when I edged up on her on the fifth day, watchin' from the trees like I'd taken to doing.  I'd caught her stripped down to her skin by the creek the day before, naked and freezing and tryin' ta wash the mud off herself while I stood less than the length of her truck away from her.  She ne'er saw me and by the time she were done squealing at the cold rain on her bare arse and knockin' her dry clothes into the creek twice, I knew this woman weren't going to make it long enough to turn in whatever sort of reports she were compiling.

The cold or the mountain would get her, one way or ta'nother.

And if they didn't, I would.

 

But on this day it was the storm that should have either sent her home or did her in, and when she turned round to look into the woods like she'd heard a wraith, I just stood there, not carin' if she saw me or no.  But she didn't, I dunno if her eyes were bad or if she just had too much rain in 'em.  She looked right at me and then turned round to look behind her.

Geejus fuck she were stupid.

But her eyes were china blue even in the dark drizzled overcast of the oncoming storm, and that same damn itch I'd felt the day before while she scrubbed up at the creek started tuggin' at me again somewhere up under me kilt.

Fuck.

I stepped out into the clear and let her see me.

 

That were me first big mistake.

 

 

_To be continued..._

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter aligns with chapter 2 of Sgaile Leannan

 

_**Chan eil dad a 'tachairt gu math nas luaithe na paidhir chasan fada** _

_**Nothing chases common sense off quicker than a pair of long legs** _

 

 

 

I've no idea how she kept up, but the stupid woman followed me through the storm, yappin' and complainin the whole way.  I never told her she could come, she just took out after me, bitchin about the cold and the wet and the mud and fallin on her face every third step.  The devil on me left was tellin me to leave her, let her find her own damn way off the hill, but there were somethin so pathetic about her will to keep trying that I slowed down when she fell behind and let her catch back up.  People died in the hills during winter, people who knew their way about.  With the cold of night comin, I knew she'd either perish quick or suffer slow.

I couldn't ha' cared less either way, but I'd have been the one to deal with her corpse if she din't make it.

I'd done that b'fore, didn't care to do it again.

And so once we'd crossed the field and I saw she was still behind me, I knew she were goin'ta follow me into me house.

I didn't like people in me house.

I didn't like _people._

And I sure as hell didn't like this whinging clumsy fool of a female yellin' at me to slow down every few steps along the way.  She weren't welcome but there were noplace else for her to go.

That were the only thing that kept me from locking the door behind me and leavin' her to sleep in the barn with the livestock.  Because she were sent here to find an excuse for the Clendon Williams fucks to take my home out from under me and displace the village folk while they were at it, and for that I did'nae care much if she lived or died.

But somethin' about the innocent way she asked for help without guilt or shame made me wonder if she were aware of any of that.

And so I opened the door when she banged on it, against me better judgement.

 

Of all the prissy arsed primadonnas on the goddamn planet I found meself host to the one most averse to the sight of human skin.  And so I did what any self respectin' gent of the country would do - I stripped down bare arsed naked in front of her and let her know whose home she were sittin' in.

The look on her face and the panicky way she shot her eyes everywhere but at me would have made me laugh if I weren't so close to puttin' me hands on her throat to see if cuttin' off her air might slow that tongue in her head.  She'd been in me house for all of four minutes and I were already plottin' her demise, so I grabbed me things and left her alone to clean up while I showered outside.

 

The water were fucking cold that night but it did nothin' to cool the damn flames in my gut.  I didn't like this woman but I'd be buggered if she hadn't had me grippin' me cock twice already.  A man who doesn't have a wank after seein' a long legged gal bathin' in a creek is either lying or not quite the man he claims to be, and I were every bit that man whether I wanted ta' be or no.

I blame those goddamn legs.

I were comin' before I had a second thought about it.

 

I'd never seen someone less capable of usin' her own head to sort what to do as this fuckin numpty.  When I come back she were standin' there at the sink still in her wet clothes, not havin' done the one thing I'd told her to do.  The best I could do aside from tossin her into the rain outside was to ignore her like she weren't there, and so that's what I did.

And o'course, as soon as I were settled into bed she started to talk again.

But she finally slogged out of her soaked kit with her back to me as if that were goin'ta stop me lookin at her; I'm just as happy peekin at an arse as a pair o' tits so it made me no difference, though I swear to the heathen gods o' this land and every other that I tried me damnedest not to gander.

But those legs.  Fuckin savior in wellingtons those goddamn legs.  We'd have been far warmer on this cold arsed night if she'd consented to wrap those around me and share the heat of that sweet little lace wrapped pussy wit' me own nethers, but the last thing I could want was her yappin at me in the morn as if we were lovers after one quick shag for heat.

So I ignored the pull I felt at me balls and tried not to feel sorry for the bitch when she finally settled on the floor in her frilly unmentionables and asked me my name.  I didn't tell her.  She had no business knowin' me...but she said her name were Molly, and for a stupid second I heard meself tell her g'nite.

I blame it on the legs and those goddamn little knickers.

They were lace.

 

 

_To be continued..._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Image on the right created by VivianStark exclusively for this fic, please don't post anywhere. The other two images are free use from the web and I claim no ownership of them*


	3. Chapter 3

 

**_Thoir seachad rud amadan agus gun dèan e sin._ **

**_Forbid a fool a thing and that he will do._ **

 

 

 

I took her down off the hill the next morn, as promised.  If I'm nothin' else, I'm a man of me word and I had work to do that she was interferin' with.  The quicker I could be shut of her the quicker I could forget the hurt in her pretty blue eyes when I shouted at her, and how slow they were to turn angry.

Nobody'd ever taken that long to find offense in my words.

Maybe she just couldn't understand me, I dunno.

But I do know that the longer she stood there lookin like she were bout'ta cry, the angrier I got.  I don't like tears and when those big blues welled up with 'em I knew she were goin'ta be the fuckin end of me.

I had to get her gone.

And so I pulled her truck outta the muck and sent her on her way without a farewell or a second look, and prayed to the heathen gods that once walked this land that she'd ne'er find her way back.

Fuckin useless gods, they never listen.

But they did leave me an apology. 

The stupid woman'd forgotten her knickers. 

I tossed 'em under me bed and put her out've me head, though in retrospect I should'a thrown the fuckers straight into the fire.

 

 

I went about me business that day and the next, chasin' me flock around the hills.  And as were usual, about the time we hit the crest I started to miss me dog.  Fergus had taken ill the summer a'fore, gone lame.  I had to put 'im down.  I hadn't had the heart in me chest yet to replace 'im, though I knew I were gonna have to.  He'd been me longest companion up here on the hill, me only companion mostly aside from the sheep, and I hadn't even looked at a pup yet to start trainin.

It were past time, but fuck if a chokin' lump did'nae come up in me throat ever time I give it a thought.

But this day a ewe fell into the crag and I spent a good hour pullin' her out, a job that wouldn'ta had ta be done if Fergus had been there with his watchful eyes.  And I'd be damned if I couldn't stop thinkin' about that cursed woman the whole time, asleep on the floor next to me bed, the fire in the hearth warmin' her skin so I could smell her in me dreams. 

I set the flock ta' graze in the field aside the barn and went back in the house.  When business needs tendin' it's best not ta put it off for too long.

 

I set meself down on the edge o'the bed, empty headed with a quarrelsome fire in my gut.

They were under there, where I'd tossed 'em.  I reached under the bed and felt around till my fingers hit the lace, still blank brained and runnin' on a filthy lust that were gnawin' at every bone in me body.

Fuck if they did'nae still smell like her.  Sweet and musky like sweat and rain and that tangy scent women get between their legs.  It set my mouth to waterin' and be'fore I knew what I were doin, I were stretched out on me bed with those little lace knickers wrapped around me cock, strokin' ta put out that fire. 

I knew she were out there.  Years of livin' alone on the mountain had give me an awareness the same way a cat knows a vole is near enough to sup on, the way a hawk knows a perch is close enough to the surface o' the water to be caught.  I sensed her more so than I heard her, though she weren't the most skilled at bein' a quiet sneak.

There were no mistakin' the noise of those damn squeaky red boots of hers.

And goddamn if it did'nae make me harder, knowin' she were watchin' me.

 

 

_To be continued..._

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

 

**_Tha glainneachan is lèintean gu math prìobhaideach_ **

**_Glasses and lasses are brittle ware_ **

 

 

How the bitch made it back up to the crest b'fore the rain started is beyond me, but she were fussin and squawkin at her equipment for a good ten minutes b'fore I'd had enough of watchin her and went back to the flock.  I had shit ta' do, I could'nae be peepin on her incompetent arse all morn.

It were a nice arse tho, I had'ta give it that.  A bit on the broad side, plenty enough'ta push up against on a cold night.  Heart shaped, what I'd seen of it.  It'd been enough'ta fuel the wank I'd had that mornin, fer damn sure.  But I had work ta'do and she were a distraction that I didn't need or want...and so I turned the flock east and run them over the hill where she'd parked her truck.

Strictly speakin' I didn't have to run 'em through there - it were just as easy to drive them over further down the hill on ta' other side of the bend.  But she'd set up shop right in the middle of the bluefaces and my sheep loved to eat them.  It were hardly fair that they should be deprived of their favorite snack so this fuckin' strange woman could trespass on their grazing grounds.

And so I ran them straight through while she stood in the bed of her truck in those damn red boots, shootin' me the look 'o death and despair while the sheep did what sheep do.

And I did what I do, which was ev'rything she didn't want me to do.

 

Spit and piss mark a territory as good as fences and boundary lines, and she were standin' in the middle of what were mine - so I spit on it and then I pissed on it while she stared at me like I were some fuckin gollum wit' more heads than I oughtta have.

"You're in my way, woman."

She give me an argument that I did'nae listen to - she were full of words till she were overflowin and my brain scurried off somewhere else soon as ta' third word left her mouth.  She had nothin' to say that I needed to hear, not unless she were moanin' and beggin me ta' fuck her harder.  Like she'd done in my head that morn.

Jaisus.

But even that were too many words and her voice were wearin' on me.

"Storm's comin," I told her as I were leavin, which were more of a warnin than she deserved.  "You should get off the mountain now, I won't be leading you down this hill again."

She mouthed at me again, but I did'nae care what she had ta' say.  She had time to get off the sliabh b'fore the worst of it hit, but she'd be walkin' to the village in the shitty downpour that were comin.  I'd seen ta that.  The gate at the bottom o'the hill were shut and padlocked and only meself and a fistful o' the villagers knew the lock were just for show.

It were all I could do to keep from laughin me arse off when she blasted past me on the way down the hill.  That rattly truck o'hers could'nae even get enough speed to splash a bit o' mud, though she spooked one of me lambs and I had'ta carry it for a ways.  But I rushed the flock up a little slope that gae' me a good view of the gate at the bottom and had meself a good smirk at the sight of her, red boots and heart shaped arse and yaptrap squawkin, climbin over the fence and fallin in the mud on ta' other side.

 

She were still bitchin' when she stomped into the pub, whinin' about the weather and how much she hated me as she tromped up th' stairs afore realizing I were sittin there havin' an ale.  I'd beat her to town, not a difficult task as she were on foot, and were on me second pint when she come tearin in whinging like the universe owed her a fuckin break.  And god strike me where I sit if she did'nae storm over to me and shove a finger in me face, callin' me a knicker thief and standin' there with her hands on her hips like some righteously indignant church lady here to tell me my soul needed savin.  She would'nae shut up, so I waited till she paused to take a breath b'fore I told her she were lucky to have got out from under me roof wit'out a babe in her belly.  And while she stood there yappin her mouth wit'out any words comin out, I stood up and took me leave of the place.

But I'd got a good whiff of her wet hair and damp skin again, and fuck if it had'nae give me another hard on.

I had things ta' do though, and I took that memory of her sweat mixin' with the ozone smell of the rain with me to Glasgow later that night.  It stayed with me for the next three days, and when business were taken care of and I were alone in me hotel room in the city, tryin' to sleep with the noise and the lights and the stiff unfamiliar bedsheets that smelled of bleach and other peoples' loneliness, I closed me eyes and took her knickers out o' me boot.  They did'nae smell much like her anymore, but the soft silk against me face were enough to put me to sleep.

It were an odd thing, me findin' solace in that noisy wench.  I told meself it were just my affinity for soft things, but I were never much of a liar.

 

 

_To be continued..._

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

 

**_Nas fheàrr an latha, an gnìomh nas fheàrr_ **

**_Better the day, the better deed_ **

 

 

 

Dougal's boy ran my flock while I were away and I'd told 'im to keep to the west side of the sliabh and avoid the stupid woman that were trespassin on the graze path.  He'd give me a strange look and I knew what he were thinkin.

_Why ha'nt you run her off yet?_

I could'nae answer that one for meself much less for him, so I left it alone.  I had more to be worryin about than some city woman with fancy knickers diggin in the dirt.

Me daughter Ella were turnin' five.

I come back from Glasgow in time to leave a box on the front stoop of her folks' house, it weren't fancy but it had a doll in it that I'd seen her askin for in the shops.  My path crossed with her ma's ever now and again and I got a good look at the lil princess when I could, usually from afar so's not to interfere with their lives.  Sometimes Meghan would see me and come over to speak to me, let me see the girl up close, but only if her man were'nt around.  Her man takes issue with me being near them and I can't say that I blame him, though he were all for the siring when it meant he'd keep his book binding business in the event that the McClary monarchy suddenly ended.  When it become apparent to the townsfolk that I weren't the marryin type an the whole bloody thing could go tits up if I took a wild hair to jump off the bluff, they all but lined their women up to get an heir off me.  William Campbell were one o' the first to shove his wife into the line.

I bought his fancy books when'ere he brought them to the village faires, and he sold 'em to me with the bitter gleam of resentment that a man's eyes hold when tasked with somethin that humiliates him.  B'cause William Campbell were legal guardian to a McClary heir that looked just like the fuckin McClary that sired it, and that sits heavy on a man's pride.

That an'the simple fact that he could barely keep shoes on the babe's feet.

I traded goods and services for most o'me needs, but I always handed cash to Campbell, and that burned the feathers right off his arse end.  But he could'nae afford to turn away either me or my coin and I always made sure to mutter _Buy the bairn a sweet_ when he went to hand me change.

I bought Ella a new coat and shoes ev'ry Autumn, always on the sly because I knew he wouldn't take the money.  But Meghan always did, and she thanked me like I were savin her life, and sometimes if it'd been a lean summer I'd see to it that her bills were paid.  I weren't buyin the right to see the child, but Meghan always repaid me with that very thing, and Ella called me her imaginary friend b'cause it were always done discreet so that William did'nae catch onto it.

And so I become the wraith that Ella saw wavin to her from the front window at the vet's for just a second b'fore her Da looked, or the guy who'd sometimes push her on the swing at the park when her mum were lookin t'other way.  On occasion I were just a shadow she caught a glimpse of, leavin somethin on her front porch that usually turned out to be some little thing she'd wanted but her Da couldn't get her.  But Ella weren't afraid of the shadow and she always waved to me, sometimes blowin me a kiss a'fore runnin back to her mum.

She weren't my only offspring, but she were the one that clutched at my heart the hardest.  It'd been a long slow summer for her Da's business and so I'd got the doll in Glasgow and left it where she'd find it, havin meself an inner struggle to mind me own affairs when I heard yellin from inside the house.  I'd seen Meghan sittin alone in the park cryin more than once while Ella played.

It were all I could do to keep William Campbell from meetin with an unfortunate incident.

And then I come back home to find that fuckin idiot woman still on my land, and a storm brewin to lay all t'others to rest.

 

So when I came over the crest on the fourth day an she were there grinnin smug like she'd spilled cream between her legs and the cat were lickin it up, it were a mighty struggle to keep from puttin her down - and when she snapped her fingers in me face like I were a fuckin simple git I lost what were left of me temper.  A blizzard were comin fast and I knew...goddamn it to hell _I knew_ she didn't have time to get off the hill before it hit.  But I sent her on her way regardless, b'cause there weren't no way in hades that I were takin her home with me again.  My mood were too far gone for that shite.

But god watches out for fools and children and apparently I were the chosen vessel for keepin the noisy fuckwit alive.

 

I could hear the engine grindin' from the creek and knew it weren't gonna start.

I did'nae know what I'd ever done to deserve the irritation besides committin the sin of bein' a McClary, though I suppose that were enough.  It were long past time for the clan to fall into history and if I had my way, that were what was going to happen.  No sons to carry on the name, no more legacy of jackassery and nonsense, and the whole fuckin thing would go to the grave with me.

Only I'd walked away from death so many times he stopped even noticin' that I were in the room.

 

I went back to get the stupid sow.  She followed me across the fields again without quite so much bitchin this time and when we got close to the cabin I told her to get her arse inside and get a fire goin.  One of the lambs had wandered and it were startin to snow and I'd be damned to hell if I let one of my flock get lost because I had to babysit some damn city trespasser that didn't have the common sense god had give her to get in before the storm started.

She did what I told her, and when I came back from retrievin my lamb I found her sittin in me chair, readin one o' me books. 

I did'nae like people touchin my books.

I sure as fuck did'nae like this stupid woman sittin in me chair like she'd been invited.

I did'nae like this damn woman _at all._

Which were why I wanted tae slit me own throat when I realized halfway through the night that she were in me bed with me, by my invite.  And like the stupid fucker that I am, I let her stay there instead o' shovin her out on the floor where she shoulda been from the start.

This goddamn city female and that dumb shite Campbell - two faces I'd had ta see on the same damn day, two faces I'd've just as soon pushed into the mud.  Molly'd been sent by the suits and there were little I could do about that 'cept wait for her to leave on her own; they'd send someone to find her eventually if she did'nae report in for a while and though the peat bogs are a good place to dispose of a body, I weren't of the right temperament to allow for authorities to crawl all over me land lookin for the bitch.

William Campbell would sort himself out sooner or later, but until he did I would just keep buyin his fancy books and givin them to me other bairn Eowyn for when she were old enough to read.  He thinks I'm an illiterate halfwit and am probably usin the books for kindlin...I can see it when he meets eyes with me in the pub, that he thinks the lowest thoughts of me.  That I buy his hard work and toss 'em into the fire like a fuckin barbarian to spite him.

I could'nae care less what he thinks.

The only thought in another person's head that puts me to pause is that Ella thinks he's her Da.  And that had me in a right pisser of a mood to deal with the whiny sow that followed me home for the second damn time, like a witless kitten that won't stop tryin'ta cuddle to a snarlin cur.

She were lucky I had'nae snapped her neck yet, like the cur grabbin the kitten by'ta scruff and givin it a bone bustin shake.

Hellfire, I'd even shared me food an drink with her.

I weren't sure why, either.

 

 

_To be continued..._

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

 

**_Is dòcha gum bi an leigheas nas miosa na an galar_ **

**_The cure may be worse than the disease_ **

 

 

 

When I woke at daybreak she were still there, of course.  No place for her to go, and I'd put a deathgrip on her durin the night to keep her still because she were a squirmy thing.  She could'nae've gotten out of the bed without wakin me and ta' funny thing were that she did'nae even try.  Just lay there next to me and kept her mouth shut fer once, did'nae even squawk a word o' protest when I shoved me dick into her back.  When that failed ta get a rise out of her I let her feel it up between her legs, but she were silent for once and I left her alone after that.  Too much fuckin about tryin' ta mess with her head would only serve ta mess with me own and I were already strugglin a bit with that.  She had nice tits and a good plump arse and if I'd be lyin out me own if I did'nae admit that havin her legs around me back were my current goal in life so far as me libido were concerned.

But me libido and me brain were havin themselves a mighty game o' slapcheeks and the truth of it is, me brain's always been the mightier of the pair.

And so we slept, and when I got up to stoke the fire I had such a fuckin hard on that she come close ta wakin to find me atop her.

 

I stared at her for a while.  In the soft light o' mornin with her yap shut she were like an angel, all quiet breathin and hair across the pillow and tits spillin out of her shirt.  I swear tae fuck I nearly sit down to have meself a wank lookin at her, but the lambs were squawkin from the barn and the storm had dropped enough snow on us durin the night to make it dangerous cold.

Things needed doin.

And so I left her there and went about me business, tendin to a barn full of hungry animals that weren't gonna be grazing the snowy hills today.

But thoughts run where they want no matter the sort of pen you toss 'em into, and mine ran straight back into the cabin where it were warm and her sweet smellin skin were rubbin on the blanket we'd slept under.  Or maybe she were up and eatin the food I'd left out.  Maybe she were sittin in front of the fire to warm herself.

Maybe she were draggin the barn door open just as I were movin the sheep from one pen to ta'other, spookin 'em and sendin 'em scattering.

Aye, that's what she were doin.

Goddammit.

 

 

_Say no.  Say no you stupid woman._

I weren't a prayin man and the only gods that had ever paid any attention to this land never answered a prayer that I were aware of, but if the need to ask for help from a higher power had ever pressed me, it were pressin me then.  I'd lost me temper and tossed her yappy arse into the hay and she were layin there all pink cheeked and flustered, just lookin up at me with those innocent blue eyes that never stopped makin me wish she were somethin I could keep.  There've been times in my life when I lost control o' meself, but I could say without crossin me tongue that I'd never forced a woman to lay still for me.

Until now.

I listened for any whisper of a refusal, any stutter of a cry for help.

There were none. 

_Say no.  Say no you stupid woman._

 

But she ne'er did.

 

It had been a while since I'd lain with a woman.  Long enough that I did'nae really think about it till I were doin it, and the soft warm bit of her that I drove meself into were enough to push me straight to the edge so quick there were no turnin back.

And still she didn't ask me to stop.  _I'm cold_ was all she said, and she said my name all quiet and imploring, like she were beggin me.  But she weren't cold on the inside and she were warmin me with what felt like the soft little wave of heat you get when the flames have died and the coals are all that's left, glowin like a dragon's heart in the ashes of the forest.

I did'nae even try to hold back.

And when it were done and she lay there between my feet tryin to pull her fancy little knickers up while I put meself back together, my head kept runnin to two things.

She needed to get tae fuck out of my life.

And I needed to make her feel better, because her eyes were wet and I knew I'd made that happen.

 

I held my hand out and gave her the choice to take it or no.

_Say no you stupid woman._

 

She took it.

 

 

_To be continued..._

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

 

**_ Tha faclan gu math blàth nuair a bhios stoirmean a 'tighinn còmhla _ **

**_ Words are poor warmth when a storms a'comin _ **

 

 

 

We fucked all day an the better part of the night, which were ideal because it soon become evident that she could'nae talk with her mouth full and moanin were preferable to words.  For an uptight mouthy city woman she were surprisingly eager to get at me.  I could'nae imagine anyone puttin up with her long enough tae fuck her more than once, but I were stuck with her and the blizzard were just getting started.

And so were we.

And so I bent her over me table as soon as I got her back into the house, and then I took her to me bed, because it were gonna be a long storm and she were a warm body to crawl into.  And it were good - I would'nae have thought her to be the way she were, eager to please and e'ry bit as eager to _be_ pleased, wit'out a complaint no matter what I did to her.  She grabbed it all up like a starvin pup and pleaded for more with those pretty blue eyes, and for the first time in me life I let a bed partner keep me up all night wit'out tellin 'em to shut up or get out.

But as soon as mornin come peekin through the window at us her yap started runnin again, and e'en though me dick were hard from her fine plush arse pushin up against me in my tight bed, I just could'nae take that voice so early in the day's rise.  Voices do that to me.  And hers hit that pitch just right, the one that sends a jolt through me skull and shrinks me brain till all I got left is anger and a fierce need to get tae fuck away from it.  But jaisus hell the timing of it all.  We were stormed in and it was'nae goin' ta end any time soon, and me brain were shrinkin quicker than I could pull me thoughts together to keep from squeezin her throat to find her off switch.

I did'nae think she had one, and ta only way other I could see to shut her up was ta fuck her brains out.

But me cock was about as capable as me head when it come to takin that voice and all the words that poured out her mouth.

 

I gave her fair warnin.  That's more than most folks get from me.  I suppose the fact that I'd treated her tender at some point during the night made her feel she could be sassy with me, but she were rethinkin that once she found herself outside.  It took two face-firsts into the snow in her bare arse ta shut her up and by the time she finally figured it out, I were kinda startin ta like her.  Just a bit, mind ye...for all her talkin and fussin she weren't a bad sort.  She did'nae seem to think she were better than me, like I were some simpleton she had ta talk down to.  She did'nae look at me like she felt sorry for me, and she did'nae put up with my short temper like it were somethin I just could'nae help.

She treated me like I were a poor mannered jackass she could barely tolerate.  And fer that alone I liked her more than just about anyone I'd known me whole life, because _Ah there goes Thomas, he's simple ya know, makes him difficult the poor wee soul_ was somethin I'd overheard since I were a boy and it had always made me pull into meself.  Maybe I were difficult, maybe I were simple.  It did'nae feel like it inside me head though.  I did'nae like ta talk, words meant nothin to me once they left a person's mouth but inside me head, they whirled and danced and made shapes and colors to drown out the sounds my ears could'nae tolerate.  And so that was where I spent me time, inside me head where words made no noise.  It were the noise that made me difficult.  And with other people, it was what made me simple.

But this woman, she did'nae look at me that way.  She looked at me like I were a man that made her struggle with the right way to be a woman.  She give herself to me wit'out complaint or protest and after a while when the smiles started to come, they were real.  Not the indulgent smiles of pity from the old ladies, not the nervous smiles I got from the men in the village who seemed to either fear me or hate me.  Not the respectful smiles from the ones who acknowledged me as the goddamn king.

She smiled at me like she liked me, though I knew she probably didn't, not really.  I had'nae been kind to her because kindness wis'nae in my nature.  But fuck me if she did'nae make me want to learn it.

It were day two of the blizzard and she'd made me laugh.  She'd made me say words I did'nae say to anyone, though I'd said 'em in me mother's tongue and she could'nae understand a word of it.  I could'nae see myself bein able to put up with her long term, but I also could'nae see myself not thinkin of her from time to time once she were gone.

And so I treated her bad when I come back in from the barn later that day, b'cause I could'nae stand the thought of that, and it were in me nature to be a disagreeable arse.

And then she told me there were nothin about me she liked, and then we fucked like two people who could'nae stand the sight of each other but could'nae break some invisible rope that were bindin us together.

I knew I were fucked.  I don't think she knew it though, and for some reason that hurt me deep.

 

 

_To be continued..._


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

 

**_Seallaidhean brèagha a 'falach siùcar searbh_ **

**_Bright wrappings hide bitter sweets_ **

 

 

 

I wanted to hate this woman, I truly did.  But I did'nae know what hate was, not enough to use it.  Hate's somethin that lies far on the end of what I know, off in the distance where I can'nae see it clear.  The word has a definition but that definition makes no sense to me.

I dun'nae like licorice.  I don't suppose I hate it, but it's somethin I don't want in my mouth.  It does'nae make me happy.  But ev'ry now and again I touch a piece of it to my tongue to see if it's still as bad as I recall, b'cause for some reason I _want_ it to make me happy.

It never does.  But that does'nae stop me from givin it another chance the next time I find one in a bag of sweets. 

This woman were licorice.  She made me shudder, but I still could'nae stop puttin my damn tongue on her, just to see if there was some happy to be had in the stingin bitter taste of her.

 

 

**_"There is nothing about you that I like, King McClary.  You're not even my type, my boyfriend was a big blue eyed blonde and he actually knew how to hold a conversation and behave like a civilized human being, not some scurvy wild animal that would rather piss on you than say hello."_ **

**_"Then why are you riding my dick?"_ **

**_"Because it's here and I'm here and there's nothing better to do in this shack than have sex and insult each other...and I'm tired of the insults."_ **

 

 

She were right.  I weren't her boyfriend, the blue eyed blonde that used nice words and had pretty manners to go with his pretty face.  But summat told me what this crazy bitch needed was far removed from the Adonis she'd left at home.

She were used to ribbon candy with the sugar center that melts on your tongue.  She needed some licorice.

 

She were grindin against me face like some clumsy exotic dancer but may the gods of the hills strike me dead if I did’nae feel the need to strip her down to those prissy little knickers I knew were under her jeans, rip 'em off her arse and rub meself off on her back wit’ em simply b'cause we were both here and I could.

_Why ta' hell not._

She protested a little when I undressed her, rough and quick.  And there they were, those lacy soft wee things she wore next to her skin, makin my fingers itch and my mouth water.  I pulled her down on me and shoved my cock up under the backs o' them.  I did'nae need her to rub against me like she did, but once she hit the right way to move I could make myself forget about the commotion and just concentrate on gettin me stones off.  This were why I did'nae care much for fuckin, though I had needs the same as anyone.  All the movin, the noise, the touches and the rubbin.  It were too much sometimes, for me nerves.  But she were soft and plush feelin, not thin and hard like some of the women I'd been with.  I could'nae feel a bone in her anywhere, just a soft thickness that made me want to carry her in me pocket so I could squeeze her like one o' those stressy toy things.

But I could'nae deal with the constant yappin that would be comin' out me pocket if I were to do so, so I rubbed meself on her back till I were near ready to come and then I pushed meself into her, deep as I could.  She whined a little and held herself up off me and it occurred to me that I might of hurt her a bit.

I did'nae like the way that made me feel.  But I were never one for talkin during fuckin, so I gentled her with me hands till she eased up and I felt the rigid tension leave her body.  I pinched her nipples till she moaned and when she relaxed I pushed a finger into her, not hard but quick so she could'nae tense against it, and when she fell back against me I let meself go.

Comin's always been an animal thing to me.  We're human till we can't be anymore, and then our heads shut down and somethin' else takes over.  Somethin' drives us, pushin and gruntin and tryin to get deeper, till nothin makes sense but the tearin' apart of our souls.  Ruttin's a natural thing, all animals do it.  It's what you do after that tells what sort of beast you are.

The silent type that slinks off into the night, that's the kind I were.

It were like that always, but this time when I come inside of Molly I ground me face into her back to keep from yellin out.  I finally felt a hardness in all the softness that she were made of - her spine, against my mouth.  Somethin about the way it contrasted to the rest of her, all tender and squeezable and then this strong strip of rigid bone runnin right down the middle of her like a steel girder that keeps a building from collapsin in the wind, it flipped a switch in me somewhere.  She might be soft but she were strong.

It were somethin to respect.

I think I heard some words though I could'nae tell you what I said, or even if it were me that said it.  I may have said her name, I dunno.  But she went quick from rubbin against me to fallin back onto my chest, her breath catchin and sobbin, and as I were still in her I felt all the soft parts of her inside clutchin and pullin at me.  Tryin' to keep me there, inside her.  To keep me from slinkin' off into the night, silent.

It were the first time, maybe ever I dunno, that I did'nae pull out and move away once I were done with a woman.  They like to try to talk in those few minutes when all I can do is pull me head back together, put me brain back in me skull and work out how to calm me nerves.  I'm no good for talkin.  Not ever, but 'specially not then.  But she did'nae say anythin for once, and I knew then the words had come from me.

Goddamn licorice.  It made me shiver with revulsion.  It bit back.  But there was somethin sweet under that vicious bite, and I knew I was gonna keep lickin it to see if it would start to taste good.  Because I wanted it to.

 

 

_To be continued..._

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

 

 

**_Tha sùil dhall a 'sgoltadh nach eil aig an solas soilleir_ **

**_A blind eye squints not at the bright light_ **

 

 

 

Somewhere around the witchin hour she shed her skin.  It were like the moon comin through the window had give her permission to be something else, somethin that had been hidin inside, down deep under the prissy bitch that made my own skin crawl.  It all peeled back and left this raw, wild thing sittin atop me with her hair in her face and my blood under her nails.  She weren't the same annoying sow that had been takin up more than her share of me bed, who'd left tracks all over the sacred hill and sent off bits of the land to the labs to be stolen by men in suits.  She did'nae even look the same.  Her skin, so pale it put me to mind of a fawn's belly, were flushed rosy from tip to toe and she were sweatin to match her moanin despite the chill o' the dyin fire.  Where I'd been movin her b'fore, puttin her however I wanted her, she were pushin back now.  I lay back and let her do as she wanted on the suspicion she'd never done much more in bed than lay there waitin for it to be over.

This woman were awake now.  I knew she'd been sleepin for hell only knew how long, maybe all her life.  But she were stretchin and yawnin in the rising sun that comes up in a soul when it finally opens its eyes and sees the first light of day and realizes it's alive.  And it were happenin in my bed.

It suited her.

But fuck it if I weren't wishin she'd picked somewhere else to do it.

 

 

I dunnae have much need for things.  Too much around me clutters me head, I keep life spare so I can concentrate or else my thoughts scatter.  Too much to look at, too much to listen to, it all ends up bangin about in me brain till it's nothin but noise and my nerves go aflame.  I did'nae fare well with schoolin' for that reason.  There was too much sound and movement for my ears to interpret and my eyes to follow.  My thinkin ran off to quiet places and left the lessons behind, and though I knew the answers, I were too angry at the noise to bother givin 'em.  That's what life were like for me.  Too loud for livin, too full of things.

So I live quiet on the sliabh, me and my livestock, and I have what I need and no more.

But my eyes sometimes lock to a shiny thing and can't let it go.  When I were a lad I kept silver wrappers from chewin gum in me pockets.  When no one were lookin I would take it out, foldin and unfoldin it in my fingers, lettin the light catch the shiny side.  It sent a calm through me.

This woman caught me eye and would'nae let it go.  First it were her boots.  Red as a fuckin fire engine, useless rain wellies that she were muckin about in, ill fittin' and so new the tag were practically still on 'em.  They squeaked, which made me hands itch to throttle her, but that _red._   I could'nae sort whether it was exciting or infuriating, it felt pretty much the same either way - but either way, I could'nae stop lookin at 'em.

Then she took 'em off and spent a night in me bed.  Settin by the door, those boots did'nae interest me anymore.  My eyes fell to somethin' more shiny and less noisy.

A fuckin weed, bottled up like it were a trapped djinn, hangin on a chain around her neck.

 

It made no sense to me, this useless bit of fancy.  But she insisted it were a pretty thing, and I watched it dangle between her breasts, wonderin what purpose it could possibly serve.

None, she said.

But I could'nae stop me eyes from wantin it.

 

I come in from bath'in meself outside to find her pussyin about with her own bath.  Too cold, she whined.  There were ice in me hair and an ugly chill in me bones that took away all my patience and I told her she were useless, which the silly woman were quick to take offense to.  That prissy decency ran wide through her and she could'nae take to impolite words I suppose, no matter how much truth were sittin in them.  I doubted anyone had ever talked harsh to her, the way she rankled when I cussed her.

She were slow and I wanted my dinner so I washed her, and then I said fuck to dinner and licked her cunt.  The sun were near finished crossin the sky when we stopped moanin and grindin and pushin against each other.  She denied bein' useless and I supposed she must be right...though what I were doin with her did'nae feel like usin so much as borrowin, and once the storm gave up I'd have to give her back.

Jaysus fuck, the damage we did each other.

We both knew it weren't gonna snow forever.

 

She jabbered about this and that, nonsense, but I were gettin used to the sound of her voice and it did'nae hurt my head quite so much now.  Most of her words drifted off to nothin an I barely heard them inside the quiet that sometimes took over inside me brain when I could'nae be bothered to listen anymore.  She'd used me damn near completely up but could'nae seem to stop wantin' more, long past the point where my dick gave out.  I had to stop, and when I did, the words started again.

She seemed to think I had a tendency t'ward touchin things - a tactile fetish, that were what she called it.  I knew what fetishes were but I'd ne'er heard it put to somethin like touch before.  She were watchin me play with her knickers and to shut down the flood of words I knew were comin I let my eyes go back to that pendant.  It were warm when I touched it, like it had a life of its own, snug and safe there between her tits.  I were a bit jealous of it, truth be told.  It served no purpose but she kept it anyway, against her skin like a talisman.  It did'nae have to earn its keep.  She simply liked it enough to have it.

 _You make wishes on it,_ she'd said.

"What d'you wish for, Molly?"

She did'nae have an answer and I wondered why.  It were a useless thing for sure, but if it held wishes, why would'nae a person want to get them out?  Wishes were rare and useful in the books I'd read as a boy, fanciful things that did'nae exist, but if this little glass bottle held one I would sure as fuck want to set it free to see if it were real.

And here she had one, trapped an' belongin' to her, and she'd never even used it.

This woman made no sense to me.  Useless things that served no purpose - her and that bottled weed, both of 'em.

I had no use for useless things.

But I kept catchin' meself lookin' at her the way she must've looked at that little pendant when she'd first bought it.

It had no purpose.  She just liked it.

I were startin ta' understand that.

 

 

 

_To be continued..._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *artwork of King and Molly by VivianStark and myself exclusively for The McClary Chronicles - please don't post anywhere without a credit to the artist and a link back to this fic*


	10. Chapter 10

 

 

 

 _Chan fhaod faclan a bhith gun mhilleadh no gun fhios_  
  
_Words can be neither unspoken nor unheard_

 

 

I'd slept alone for so long that wakin' up close to her were like comin' out of a dream, where things are fuzzy and out of focus until you blink and see they aren't actually there at all.  But no amount of blinkin' were makin' her go back to the shadowed recesses of the dream, and I knew I were still stuck with her when she pushed her soft self back against me.  Willingness were a given between us after all these days and nights and I put my hands to her.

But not a'fore I said somethin' to her.

I wanted her.  She were warm and plump and pushin' against me and I wanted that, all of it, under me and on top of me and wrapped around me in a dozen ways that had no names.  But the fool woman weren't listenin', or maybe the problem was that she were doin' too much of it...and when her eyes popped wide I knew my hopes for a quiet mornin' fuck were shot to hell and back.

 _I needed her,_ she insisted I'd said.

It weren't what I said.

Or was it...?

And like the fools we were, she insisted and I resisted.  To speak pure truth I did'nae even know anymore what I'd said, only that I wished she would shut her yap and let it be.  But it mattered to her, and no matter how my mouth denied I'd spoke those words, my head stayed blank, my heart wondered if she were right, and me cock did'nae care one way or t'other.

In the end she gave it up, but when I pushed into her and felt that warmth and softness that I'd taken such a fondness to, I knew I'd been mistaken or I'd lied, one or t'other.

I did need her.  But gods of ta' hills strike me dead if I were ta say it out loud again.

 

 

She give me her necklace that day, the pretty thing she wore around her neck.  I did'nae know why she did it, but she'd seen my eyes fall to it and offered it to me.

I took it, and the next thing out of her mouth was _Do you have sensory issues?_

Me brain shut down.

Just like it always did.

Like it did the first time I'd heard those words, and I reacted the same way now that I did then.  I shut the words out.  They meant nothin.  Just words, spillin out a doctor's mouth, fallin unheard on half the ears in the room.  Me Da, standin' up fast and pushin me t'ward the door.  Me mum, beggin him to sit down and listen.

I weren't the perfect son he wanted, he already knew that.  I weren't gonna be king one day, not if he listened to those words the doc were spoutin leastways.  And so he did'nae listen, and neither did I.

I were six.

We had ice cream on the way home, I do remember that.  Da looked at me, reached across the table and pushed me hair back out of me eyes.

 _Life will be noisy for you unless you learn to make it quiet,_ he said.

I ne'er forgot those words.  They were the only thing he ever said to me that meant anything.

 

 

I got ta' missin Fergus once the snow stopped fallin.  He would'a been at the door, pawin and fussin to go out.  Like me Grandda that he were named after, always ready to be busy.  I went to the bluff where he were buried and whistled for him, but o' course he did'nae come when I called.

He had'nae come for two seasons now.

I barely heard the woman when she come tumblin down the hill behind me, that damn catful curiosity of hers bringin' her out of the cabin to look for me.  I did'nae care that she were there.  But when I went into the house later to warm meself she stared at me in some new way that I could'nae make heads nor tails of.

She looked at me like I were somethin' more than the caveman she'd kept sayin I was.

It did'nae mean anythin' to me, but I wondered what was the reason for the change.

 

 

_To be continued..._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Artwork by VivianStark exclusively for The McClary Chronicles, please don't post anywhere without a credit to the artist and a link back to this fic :)


	11. Chapter 11

 

 

 

  _ **Chan eil sileadh ach sàmhach gus an tig an gaoth suas**_  
_**Silence is only quiet until the wind kicks up**_

 

 

She left when the storm broke, followin' it down the hill like she were a part of it and the season was changin'.  It were a relief to have her gone.  Quiet came back once she were off, settlin' into the cracks and breaks her voice had left in the surface of my world, bringin' back my peace and takin away that nervous rattle it'd left in me.  I felt better when I were alone again, less flightly, less angry.  Men like me weren't meant for company.

But my peace did'nae last long.   

She come back.

And she brought with her a yappy little marled pup just barely old enough to be weaned from its mum.  A good pup, I could tell by the looks of it, a little female with pert ears and smart eyes.  Noisy fucker though.  She set it loose and I stopped where I stood, choppin' wood for the fire, confused in me head as ta' how I felt about seein' her again so soon.  Somethin inside me were angry that I'd had no less than a day to shed the pain in me nerves and the ringin' in me ears.  Somethin else felt warm and excited and called up to memory the feel of her, all soft and easy to touch and smellin' sweet.  She'd left that smell in me bed along with the sharper scent of the two of us, mixed and mingled and soaked into the blankets.

Eventually I'd take the bedding down to the creek and wash out the last of what we'd done.  But not yet.  I put the axe down and watched the pup rout the flock, nippin' at the ewes' hooves and makin' a right wee fuckin' nuisance of itself.

And there the woman stood, lookin' all proud of herself like she'd done me some great service.  Molly.  Goddamn Molly, in the last place on earth that she belonged.  She weren't a bad female, I'd kenned ta' that while she were cooped up in me house.  She'd tried ta' stay on me good side, though I'm the first to own that my good side can be a hard bugger to find.  There were nothin' bout her face that made my eyes want to go elsewhere and though her lanky arse were clumsy and she were prone to stumblin' over a ray of sunlight, the only thing that stoked me fury were her voice an' the incessant use she made of it.  I just could'nae take all that talk.

But she'd brought me a pup for some fuckin reason that were bangin around in her head.  And now she was lookin' at me like she'd done somethin wrong and I could'nae sort that in me own head.  My own feels are hard mystery enough to wrap an understandin' around, someone else's are a complete loss to me.  I did'nae like that look on her and the way her china blue eyes were sayin' sorry for whatever she thought she'd done.  I put me attention to the pup to see if it followed orders any better than she did.  The wee thing come to me straight, all hyper wriggles and wantin' to please.  She put me to mind of the woman that had brought her.

Fuck.  Some misguided need to show her gratefulness had brought her back up the hill and now that she were here, I knew she weren't going to go without makin' sure I understood that.  And all I wanted was one of two things, both simple and straightforward.

I wanted her gone and my quiet world back.

Or I wanted her naked under me and too choked up on moans to speak.  Because the longer she stood there upwind o' me and I had to smell her skin and her hair and that soft sweet whatever that she'd sprayed on her neck, the more the memories of her long legs around my back tugged at my nethers.

I headed for the house, hopin' she would just get in her truck and go.

But she followed me.

And when I held my arms out to her she sat down on me lap and settled in like she belonged there.

Fuck.

 

 

_To be continued..._


End file.
